


The Hunt

by flux_eterna



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Justicar Samara, Post-First Contact War, Space Chase - Freeform, shanxi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flux_eterna/pseuds/flux_eterna
Summary: An unlikely duo stops the brother of Saren Arterius from making a grave mistake.  Inspired by the ME comics, here's a different version of events.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a work done for the Mass Effect Holiday Harbinger Gift Exchange! Hope my giftee digs it :)
> 
> All characters owned by BioWare. I just make them do the things!
> 
> Thanks to ShudderShock for the beta love!

The Order of the Justicars had bigger priorities than picking fights with species entering the stage, none the wiser to the laws and procedures governing the galactic community.  The turians were wrong in exercising the force that they had against the humans, but it wasn’t the responsibility of a Justicar to meddle in such negotiations.

Samara had greater urgencies; she needed to get to Desolas Arterius, by whatever means necessary.  She had to stop him, had to intervene—and it had _nothing_ to do with what they were calling the ‘Relay 314 Incident.’  Incident though it was, there were larger ships to chase.  Sure, Desolas’ actions toward the humans on Shanxi were abysmal, brutal—but that was something for the turian Hierarchy to handle, as a Justicar’s role was not to meddle in such matters.

No—this was black and white.  This was what Justicars were _made_ for.  Samara was prompt to accept her charge as soon as she read the notice:

_Desolas Arterius has discovered a device of unknown origin._

_The device is said to have physical and psychological effects that have yet to be tested._

_All we know is that those who encounter the device have killed themselves trying to protect it._

_It is up to you to discover the true nature of the device, and stop Arterius from employing its powers in aims of malfeasance._

_Be advised that Arterius is traveling with well-trained and honed Cabal units._

_Either obtain for study or destroy the device as promptly as possible, by any means necessary._

Samara’s eyelids closed over her crystal blue stare.  The asari breathed deeply, and on her exhale her biotics glowed to life.  At the start the blue waves pulsed over each fingertip, tingles in short swells woke up the feeling in her hands.  She brought her hand up eye-level, watching her power flare.  So much control it took, slowly waking up each and every part of her body by exerting the true inner glow of the asari.

Her arms flared, legs soon following.  Samara inhaled and exhaled again, focusing intently on each piece of her form.  Soon, biotic power was centered at her chest, her heart.  She held it there, breathing in and out through the intense focus she endured. 

Slowly, the luminescence at her chest faded before dissipating altogether.

 _Ready_.

 

\---

 

She boarded her ship, supported by a skeleton crew of asari commandos.  Samara approached the pilot after crossing the bridge, and said sternly in her airy voice, “Set course for Shanxi.”

The pilot only nodded without a word. 

 _Good_.

She walked the short distance to her quarters and after the doors slid shut, she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.  Samara wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this mission—she knew Arterius was a general, a skilled one at that.  But leaving asari space to track down an artifact that has caught the interest of the turians—well, at least a few of them—was unheard of.

Sitting down at her desk, Samara called up the keypad and started her search for everything available on Desolas Arterius. 

What threads could she tie together to make sense of this? 

Her posture was ever calm, head tilted gracefully down as she read.  The only remarkable thing about this _Desolas_ was his recent ability to inspire loyalty.  Turians had that about them anyway, though, but this just seemed quick.  Mere weeks after Shanxi, when even to most of the galaxy at large his methods had been perceived as needlessly brutal.

The list of casualties was impressive, in the worst of ways.

But not long after the events of Shanxi, the Shadow Broker observed changes in his leadership, and information on such changes was quickly delivered to the Order. 

No longer did Arterius need to exhibit cruelty to gain a following.  After their scuffle with the humans, he seemed less active on the front lines against the humans, but more engaged in turian politics, in drudging up as many followers as he could.

Powerful figures in turian space had joined his charge—even the Primarch of Invictus had recently been observed communicating with the general. 

It was baffling, in the most uneasy way, and made the underside of her crest twitch.

After ingesting as much information as she possibly could, her eyelids grew heavy with weariness, so she disrobed and guided herself to her bed.  Samara brought her naked form beneath the plush sheets, and let the comfort of slumber take over. 

 

\---

 

_Shanxi_

The shuttle dropped the Justicar within walking distance of the compound where most of the scuffle took place. It was almost a lie to call it a compound anymore—doors and entryways were blown wide open.  There were no more guards, the building was in ruins.

Some structural integrity yet withstanding, however, meant the possibility of obtainable information inside. 

 _It never hurt to try_.

Samara cast a barrier over herself before drawing her gun, pistol poised as she approached one of the many thresholds—this one being a hole blown into the side of the building.  She observed the steps (turian footprints, she noted) leading through the break.

This entrance had been used before.

Just inside and to the left of the pile of rubble that amassed in the main chamber, was a pathway littered with stones and building fragments.  They were piled, seemingly in strategic fashion, to discourage meandering beyond that point.

 _Strange_.

The asari drew up a throw, clearing the debris from her path.  Samara clicked the light on her weapon aglow and proceeded forward, ever forward. 

Nothing remarkable—a passageway, bricks and metal everywhere.  It led to a dark room, and the door was sealed shut. It was the last standing obstruction—still standing after the structure was punctured and wracked with heavy artillery. 

She scanned the door, looking for any weakness. 

_May need to check the perimeter if this cannot be breached._

Diagnostics rolled over the bright orange interface.  _There_.

Samara typed in an assortment of commands, and although the technology of her tools was all but incompatible with the door barring her path, she made it work and after a series of clicks and mechanical groaning, the locking mechanisms shut down and the door drifted open.

 _Forward_.

Hands meeting the cool metal of the door, she parted the obstructions with focused strength and caution.  There were no readings on her ‘tool that would indicate movement or heat signatures in the room ahead, but one could never be too certain.  Those with enough money and resources could buy and craft technology that might fool her own, so it was never worth the risk to charge forward despite what her tech might say. 

Samara hadn’t been a Justicar for this long without learning some of those lessons the hard way.

The room was large, tools and machinery in every available space and hanging from shelves and hooks along the walls.

 _Excavation equipment_.

There was no obvious entrance through which such large machinery would fit, and she noted that this wing of the compound remained standing when many others had fallen.  This wing was seemingly built from another material than the rest of the structure.  It was likely that once the vehicle was inside, the remainder of the building was constructed around the parked machinery.

It was sealed inside, and its contents along with it.

After taking a cursory glance at her surroundings, Samara proceeded to wade through the strewn about tools and equipment.  She noticed that their arrangement was vaguely circular, which meant that there was something in the middle; the focus of attention.

A vast chamber lay before her—the ground was gaping, open-mouthed and ready to devour her.  Samara felt a rock drop in her gut, a feeling of great unease that called on her life in the Order.  Something was wrong, very wrong.

Steps had been carved into the wracked soil next to where it was clear that the heavy machinery had been coming and going from the depths below.  The tunnel ahead was shrouded in darkness, and her only source of light was the glow from her pistol and omni-tool, but it would have to do. 

Stepping forward, one foot in front of the other, Samara tried to take hold of her surroundings.  The tunnel traveled further than she expected, but finally after what felt like endless, nervous paces, she reached an opening—wide and spacious, underground. 

There was a set of stairs on the far end of the clearing, leading upward and to the surface she guessed.  In the center of the circular space was another hole, dug with precision.  Samara took scans with her ‘tool, obtaining residual readings the likes of which she’d never _seen_ before.

Her heart picked up pace, the feeling of staunch unease pulling at her sides.  The asari had access to the vast resources of the Order, and to come up blank like this was unheard of.  She’d expected something familiar, something to call upon—to find nothing was new.

After obtaining all the readings she could and working through her initial bafflement, she’d gained everything possible at this abandoned site.  Samara walked over to the stairs on the other side of the area and ascended, using a charged throw to blast through the locks. 

Light spilled in and she squinted to adjust, and the distinct sound of a shuttle landing pulled her attention to the west.

It was not her team’s shuttle, and it was clearly of Hierarchy design.

She could make out a small squad disembarking and, abiding the code, approached them first with her weapon holstered.

The turians did the same, noticing her not resorting to violence as a first step.

Samara approached them and, with purpose, introduced herself. 

“My name is Samara, and I am here on a directive on behalf of the Order of the Justicars.”

The three turians looked at each other, and one stepped forward.  Different looking than the rest of them, the pale turian had ancillary fringe spines that were rare among his kind and, most notably—he was barefaced.

The turian bowed, then stood up straight and made direct eye contact with the Justicar.

“Saren Arterius,” he said.

And Samara’s blood ran cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paths converge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ShudderShock for the beta love!
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.

“Arterius.”  Samara said the surname like a curse, a damnation.

“They sent you after Desolas.”  Saren’s voice was just as cold, subharmonics chilling Samara to the bone.

“Yes.”  Samara tried to keep the composure in her voice, despite the churning at the center of her abdomen.  “It seems that you are here for the same reason.” 

“Hmm,” Arterius drawled out. “So it appears.  What is your knowledge of my brother’s recent activities?”  Saren’s utterance was little more than a growl, defensive behavior in a turian if Samara had ever seen it.

“I know that he wields a device of great power,” she answered, without hesitation.  “And he aims to do harm.”

“Perhaps that is how you see it, Justicar.  But that is not how Desolas perceives his actions.  He needs a…change of perspective.”

“Then why are you not aiding in that function, Arterius?”  Samara’s question was pointed, and it caught the turian off guard.  “What, then, are you doing on Shanxi?”

Saren flashed her the turian version of a scowl, mandibles flaring agitatedly and baring his teeth at her.  He composed himself after his display though, and answered simply, “I seek an antidote.”

“I’ve just come from the excavation site.  Nothing.”

The three turians spared glances at each other, communicating with subharmonics that Samara couldn’t read.  “We’ll have ourselves a look anyway, asari.”

They passed her without another word, Saren intentionally brushing against her in a shove. 

Willpower won over, and instead of lashing out at the action violently, she said “We don’t have to work against each other, you know.”

The turian turned around and made eye contact with her; she took it as a cue to continue.

“I am assigned by the Order to obtain or destroy the device by any means necessary.  You will want to guide Desolas in the right direction.  Our goals, while not identical, can succeed in tandem.  Unfortunately, this means leaving your delusions of superiority behind and working with a non-turian, for once.”

Saren scoffed at that and before he could get a word in edgewise, Samara looked back to him and said, “Don’t think that your family’s history didn’t come up while I was prepping for this mission, Arterius.  I know a great deal about their past, and yours.  You have a history of not playing nice with the other races, but this is bigger than that.  It is my hope that you will understand this, and not color your illusions of what I am after.  My Order dictates strict protocol, and I will not hesitate to remove any obstructions to my goal.  The choice is yours to make.”

Saren only scowled back at her, and motioned for his companions to follow.

 _So, this is how it’s going to be_.

Samara tried to maintain a sense of optimism, though—she hoped Saren would see reason after coming up empty at the site, just as she had.  She’d wait.  When they find nothing, they’ll come crawling back and begging to align with her.

She’d seen it hundreds or more times.

The asari cautiously approached the shuttle from which Arterius’ squad had departed.  She leaned against the outside, meditating on her situation and waiting for the trio to return after witnessing the stark reality, the true necessity of working together to get this artifact or device out of the hands that might wish to do harm.

Truth would present itself to Saren and his squad, but Samara had to be patient.

So, she waited.

\--- 

_Some time later…_

Thunder rolled over the distance as the punishing glare of the sun was obscured by deep grey cloud cover.  This, however, wasn’t what initially stirred Samara from her meditations.  Long strides coming from the distance, quick shuffling that couldn’t be mistaken as anything other than a turian squad having been put in its place.

A small swell of pride crept up Samara’s throat at that, but she couldn’t gloat—she was still burdened with ensuring that these three saw reason. 

She was uncertain how daunting of a task that might be.

Saren approached with his two squad mates on either flank.  Samara had years of practice reading turian facial expressions, and it was clear to her in that moment that these three were on a warpath.

Those like Saren hated being told they were wrong; being told such by a non-turian was even more of an affront.  Samara couldn’t revel in that feeling, though—she had to inspire him to help, had to give him something to hold on to so that he might help her see this through.

She didn’t need new adversaries, and she certainly didn’t plan on making more now.

Samara took the risk and spoke first once the turians were within talking distance.

“We can get to your brother before he does too much damage.”  The asari’s voice was all cool confidence—she wanted to give Saren no reason to argue, and only reasons to ally.  After seeing the readings that she had, with no discernable explanation for what laid there before, she was confident that she might talk sense into the scowling turian.

“And how do you propose doing that?”  Saren spoke as his paces quickened until his bright grey stare was mere inches from her blue.  Samara felt hot huffs drift over her face as he spoke, his agitation at coming up empty-handed clear in his exasperated breaths and clicking mandibles. 

The Justicar allowed him to stare and twitch at her, to measure her up before she ventured to respond to his inquiry.  _Let him get it out of his system_.  She stared at him until he backed down, chest deflating, and he took a few paces backward.

“Do you have any leads on where Desolas might have gone?”  Samara calmly asked the question before elaborating further.  “He’s inspiring loyalty in unlikely places, though I am unable to triangulate his possible location as my sources have been…scattered.  We can help each other here, Arterius.  Don’t make choices you might soon regret.”

Saren didn’t answer right away, only drifted his eyes over the asari to size her up once more.  He found himself superior—as a turian above all else—and that much was clear in the way he carried himself and interacted with his squad mates.  Those sentiments abound, the turian also seemed to understand that there was no doubting a Justicar and her experience, and in this moment the most nonsensical thing he could do was turn down a joint effort, especially with someone with the resources of the Order available at her fingertips.

If Saren wanted any shot of redirecting Desolas’ intentions, it didn’t take him long to realize that this was likely to be the most effective and efficient way; aligning with the Justicar would bring results, and a possible chance to save his brother from a path of sure self-destruction.  Saren and Desolas had their differences, but they were still family.  And Desolas still deserved a chance to redeem himself from whatever it was he’d been entrenched in.

Samara recognized the look of reason in his eyes, and said simply “Should we share our collective information or am I going to have to remove you from my path?”

Saren only grimaced back at her, and brought his wrist up to open his omni-tool.

“Here’s everything I know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teamwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ShudderShock for beta reading!
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.

Ever the clever turian, Desolas had covered his tracks well.  Saren and Samara aggregated their information, assembling any possible lead on Desolas’ location.  Samara’s glare was a knowing one, while every bit of information Saren shared was done so with daggers in his eyes, begrudgingly.

It was clear that this would be a rough working relationship, but it’s the way it had to be. 

“Our evidence points to Taetrus, Invictus, and Amaranthine?  It makes no _sense_.” 

Samara had to give it to Saren—he sounded sincere.  And he had a point.

“Do you think he’s trying to distract us?  Lead us astray?”

“Visiting two prominent turian worlds, then broaching an offshoot.  It doesn’t add up.”

And then, it dawned on her.  Samara dug through the location data on her omni-tool, and then pinged her informant with the Justicars.

_[Intel request: port manifests from the following locations over the last three galactic standard days—Taetrus, Invictus, Amaranthine]_

Saren looked at her after she hit send, distrust in his eyes.  His two turian companions said nothing, and only stood back and observed with their weapons drawn, held in both hands and across their chests like another layer of armor.

She took the cue, and in the spirit of maintaining some semblance of a positive working relationship, explained her actions.

“My informants have access to port and shipping manifests across the galaxy.  This will be the most efficient way to either triangulate your brother’s location, or learn of attempts to throw us off.  Be patient.”  Samara’s tone was cool, voice unwavering in her stoic confidence.  She blinked once, maintaining eye contact with Saren. His mandible flared, wordlessly waiting for whatever returned of the asari’s efforts.

The two turian soldiers accompanying Saren looked to each other then back to Samara, flexing their gloved talons over their weapons in hand.  They didn’t trust her—their body language told her that.  She may not be able to decipher subharmonics, but being as it was that she was in her Matriarch years, she’d been around long enough to know that some things simply transcended species.

All four of them perked up at the _ping_ of Samara’s omni-tool.  Her attention went down to her wrist to pull up the message, all three turians’ attention shifted directly to the asari’s face.  She didn’t acknowledge their scrutiny, and started the process of scanning the returned manifest data for patterns.

She typed diligently, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Desolas was working aboard the _Malvolia_ , correct?”

Saren trilled his confirmation.

“They tried to encrypt their location data, but my information indicates that the _Malvolia_ docked at a depot outside of Amaranthine’s orbit.”

“I don’t think that the ship needing to refuel is cause for alarm, Justicar.”  Saren didn’t so much as attempt to disguise his disdain and skepticism—he clearly regretted agreeing to this partnership. 

“Patience.”  Samara wasted no more words than she needed to, resuming her analysis and judgements.

“The ship that he docked with, and attempted to cover up, was the _Cinereus_.  That ship is reported to be in drydock at the Cipritine port.”

The three turians looked to each other again, uneasiness showing via twitching mandibles and subharmonics that spoke clearly of disquiet.

“Are you saying that…”

Samara interrupted Saren, “That it is likely Desolas either snuck aboard or commandeered the _Cinereus_ , or whoever was commanding the _Cinereus_ agreed to assist him.”

Saren looked defeated, eyes drawn to the ground in concentration.  Samara spoke up again, attempting an offer of shallow reassurance.  “We have no way of knowing which actually happened with the information we have, but we know where we need to go to find out.”

 

\---

 

_Cipritine_

The hot Palaven sun beamed down on him as he approached the temple, and Desolas ran his bare talons over the heavy doors guarding Temple Palaven’s entry.  He watched his fingertips glide over the heavy metal, relishing in what he was soon to accomplish.

He pushed the doors open and tentatively stepped inside, daunting walls hanging over him and his prize at the center of the room.  The monolith— _his_ monolith—perched like a trophy with the ancient religious site surrounding it.  To the far left, freshly laid stone marred the structure where they had to tear down some of the wall to safely get the Arca Monolith inside.

Guards were posted at any possible point of entry, and Desolas was pleased to find so many willing and able to help with his cause—both on Palaven and off.  The Invictus chapter of the Hierarchy supported him for the most part; the Primarch had to help silence a few dissenters, but it was easy support to get.

They were the reason he was able to get transport for himself and the monolith in the first place.  In gratitude, Desolas offered them the best damn turian army they’d ever seen.  And that was saying something.

It was an offer they couldn’t refuse—their world had been in trouble for some time due to other Hierarchy chapters disagreeing with their separatist and supremacist ideology, and the Primarch didn’t have time to question Desolas’ methods.  He would deliver, at any cost.

Desolas’ chest swelled with pride as he approached the monolith, taking it in for all its glory.  Loyal defenders were stationed around the barricade surrounding it, diligently protecting it from any harm that may come its way.  The object inspired loyalty, loyalty that Desolas only hoped would be directed at him someday.

With the help of the monolith, he believed anything was possible.  Traditionalist as he was though, the turian felt _some_ regret at tampering with Temple Palaven’s structure.  He believed that the Spirits would approve despite the damage, because his efforts were only to strengthen the spirit of the turian people.

He felt that the Spirits were behind him in his goals, and that their forgiveness for tampering with the Temple would come in the name of success.  At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

 _No_.

He chased away the lingering doubt that crossed his mind, believing and _knowing_ that he was doing the right thing—a selfless thing—to secure the position of his people.

After surveying the building, Desolas stepped back outside to start the process of converting people to his cause.  He had meetings, appointments, and people scheduled for conversion.

When he got outside, however, news networks from across Palaven and Citadel Space greeted him at the temple’s steps.

He certainly hadn’t planned on this.

 

\---

 

_Meanwhile…_

 

In the name of simplicity, Samara grabbed her important personal effects and boarded Saren’s ship.  They were seated in the mess, both watching as reports poured in from Palaven.

“Your brother has been caught leaving Temple Palaven,” Samara said.  “He’s also been accused with desecrating a sacred religious site.”

Saren leaned his head down, resting his brow plates in his palm, muttering quietly, “What has my brother done?”

“We can’t know that yet,” Samara reassured the turian.  “But we’ll soon find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ShudderShock for beta reading!
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.

It had been a galactic standard week since Desolas had secured the Arca Monolith in Temple Palaven, and the media hadn’t stopped surveying and photographing the area ad nauseum.  Their attentions had forced Desolas to set up barracks inside, though this didn’t end up being abrasive to their cause.  If anything, it helped maintain the needed exposure to the relic to convert those who had volunteered.

Over a hundred turians at current count had been exposed to the monolith, under the promise that it would make them stronger, more powerful, more _dedicated_ to the turian cause.  So far, it was working.  During drills and practices, Desolas’ small army had proven themselves useful and worthy. 

One concern lingered in Desolas’ mind however, and that was how to effectively shift their dedication from the monolith to _himself_.  The converted turians showed strength almost beyond measure, in protecting the area from those who wished to intrude.  Several journalists from the Citadel News Network who’d come to investigate the reported desecration and had attempted to break into the temple to gather information were no longer a problem.

Desolas chose not to ask any questions about their whereabouts.

Arterius had taken to his daily task of surveying their needs, how training his converted turians was coming along.  A small part out of his mind called to him, that these people were now only just more than slaves, but he couldn’t let himself linger on those thoughts for long.  He was doing this for the turian people, to secure their reputation as the strongest in the galaxy.  Desolas knew that he had to prove that they were better than the others, better than the _humans_ who had quickly expected so much after stepping into the fold.

Desolas couldn’t let it stand, not if he had any say over the station of his people.  Other prominent turian groups and governmental bodies in power agreed, so he ignored the pangs of guilt for now.

Now, he needed to get ready.  He needed to make sure that every recruit he’d drawn into his cause was prepared for battle—he had a feeling that their relative calm wouldn’t last, that the media wouldn’t be the worst of their problems.  Desolas walked down a corridor off to the side, charging ahead to the cramped quarters—which, was another problem he needed to solve if he had any hope of expanding—to ensure that they’d been roused. 

Of course, they had, ever the diligent soldiers.  Several select recruits had been tasked as leaders of smaller groups with different skill sets, ‘priests’ a lot of the converted soldiers had taken to calling them.  Maybe it was the religious setting, maybe the monolith was giving them a cause that he wasn’t privy to yet; it was another issue to delve into at a yet later date. 

As the turian turned a corner to find several of his _priests_ lining the hallway, his musings were disrupted with the distinct sound of thrusters outside, familiar thrusters from a shuttle he’d been aboard many times.

 _Saren_.

 

\---

 

Saren had offered for Samara to travel to Palaven aboard his ship, in the interest of compiling resources and handling this _issue_ as quickly as possible.  He wasn’t necessarily happy about hauling an asari Justicar across the galaxy aboard a turian vessel, but he didn’t have much of a choice if he had any hope of stopping his brother in a way that didn’t end with his demise.

He still wasn’t confident that they’d make it out of this without one or the other dying, especially with a Justicar between them.

Her charge was to destroy the monolith at any cost, and his turian sensibilities couldn’t help but admire her dedication.  Going into this showdown, he’d assumed both probably knew of the risks that lie ahead.  The monolith, if the stories were to be believed, held a power that nobody should be able to wield.  It needed to be removed from the hands of those who wished to do harm, before those harms spiraled out of control.

It was a very _turian_ way to approach this problem and that, at the very least, he could respect the Order of the Justicars for.

Saren was nothing if not stingy with his respect, and Samara hadn’t yet earned that from him.  He’d respected her Order, what they stood for, their _code_ —but that code could dictate their choices to change direction at a second’s notice.  He respected only that their code dictated that the job got done one way or another—though Saren didn’t care as much about potential losses as a Justicar might.

He still wasn’t sure how this would play out, he mused. But he could be in worse company, no matter that she’d done nothing to either earn or dampen his respects. 

The thrusters underneath the shuttle shifted, and they were near enough to the landing zone to go over their plan of descent once more.

“I am here to save the turian people by stopping my brother’s misguided plans,” Saren all but growled out.  “And you are here to destroy the monolith, at any cost.”

“Yes.”  Samara was neither terse nor agitated, but chose to use as few words as possible. 

“There is no reason why our goals cannot align, Justicar.”  His words were just shy of all-out disdain.  “But I will handle my brother on my own.  Do what you must with the relic.  I will take care of Desolas.”

“I cannot promise that I will not intervene,” Samara said.  “But if the code allows, then I will not come between you and Desolas.  I must act as the code dictates, and if your brother happens to fall between the code and my goal…”

“Do not waste your breath, asari.”  Saren abruptly cut her off, then reached over to open the hatch.  “I already know.”

Samara didn’t respond, and with a shimmering glow from her crest to her toes, she jumped out of the shuttle and drew her weapon.

Saren was already on the temple’s footsteps before her feet hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ShudderShock for beta reading!
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.

The doors to the temple swung open as Desolas marched forth, and as soon as the light poured in he made out the silhouette of his brother—ragged fringe, ancillaries twitching uncontrollably in what he could tell was great disappointment.

 _But he didn’t have all the facts_.  There was a voice inside Desolas’ head telling him to explain, to appeal to Saren’s notion of turian supremacy.  Though it was muted compared to his own, Saren was a true believer that the turians were the backbone of Council Space, and that it was time for the galaxy to be reminded of that.

“Let me explain,” Desolas said, without as much as greeting his brother as they stood face to face.  Saren’s cold, quicksilver glare made his plates itch.

Saren’s mandible twitched as his subharmonics thrummed in warning; the asari— _a Justicar?—_ flared her biotics, anticipating an affront.

Desolas tried to relax his stance, then launched into his appeal.  “You’ve always thought we were better, _stronger_ than the others.  Since the humans barged their way into the fold, you believe that we haven’t gotten our due.  They’ve… _forgotten_ about our role.  This, my brother, this—is a way to _remind_ them.  I— _we—_ can forge a new path, a better path, for the turian people.”

\---

Narrowing his eyes, Saren brushed past his brother without so much as a second glance.  As he crossed the threshold, Desolas did not follow.  Samara shoved past him as well, wanting to observe for herself.

Saren was greeted by several turians in black robes, weapons drawn and ready to strike.  He figured the only reason they hadn’t yet was on orders from Desolas. The robed turians all had icy eyes, devoid of any character.  They stood silently—not the smallest subharmonic tone or rustling of fabric.  The air in the room fell flat, felt _dead_.  And the turians surrounding him may as well have been; they were shells of their former selves, that much was clear.

Both Saren and Samara had seen all that they needed to—he looked to the Justicar and it was evident she was working out a plan of her own in her head.  He stepped back over to his brother, no hesitation in his gait.

“At what cost?” he ground out. 

“The benefits _outweigh_ the costs, brother.”

“What have you done to these people?  What has made you think that sacrificing their livelihoods in service of you and some relic is going to be a boon for us?  Do you think enslavement is preferable to asserting our place with some semblance of duty?”

“Where has duty gotten us, Saren?  You are _barefaced_ and want to bring up duty?  Who do you have a duty to, your Council? Your Hierarchy?  They will bend to the highest bidder.  This is our edge—there will be no denying it.”

“You have lost your mind, Desolas.”

He looked back over to the asari as she worked on her omni-tool, likely setting whatever plan she had into action.  She said she wouldn’t interfere, and she was keeping her word.  His gaze landed back on Desolas who had a pleading look in his eyes.

“Just…” his brother started, sounding softer than he’d heard him in years.  “Come with me.”

Saren warily followed, leaving Samara to her task.  Desolas led Saren to the monolith, and with each step as his proximity to the relic increased, an uncomfortable buzzing started at the base of his skull where his biotic amp ports lie, tingling aggressively directly to his brain.

He promptly stepped back, refusing to subject himself further to the monolith.

“You have destroyed the lives of these people, Desolas.”  There was a sadness in his voice, a sadness that hadn’t lived there in some time.  He was going to lose his brother today, and he knew this because it was obvious that the relic had sunk its whims deeply into him, immovably so. 

“We found another one, you know.”  Desolas spoke without looking back to his brother, only staring at the monolith as if it were a deity—he revered the thing, and it unsettled Saren to his very core.

A pang of sadness hit him as he realized his brother was irrevocably tied to this thing, but he didn’t have time to wallow in it.  The Justicar’s swift footsteps pulled him from his emotions, and she hesitated not in relaying her orders.

“Your brother and his foot soldiers will protect the relic,” she said, somewhat coldly.  “It is four of us against over one hundred of them.  We will both die.  I have requested an orbital strike from a nearby commando unit on behalf of the Justicars.  We have to leave, now, unless you wish to perish alongside your brother and the many souls he’s condemned.  It’s your choice.”

Curtly, he flicked a mandible and walked with swift paces to his brother.  He gripped him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him close for a brief brush of their brow plates. 

“You are a fool, brother.”

Those were the last words he said to Desolas before he and Samara ran to the door.  The temple went up in flames as Saren and Samara left the atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2183

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ShudderShock for beta reading!
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.

He should have walked away, should have ignored the draw of the buzz at his ports, shouldn’t have let it sink into him.

Now, it was 2183 and it was too late.  He should have learned from Desolas’ mistakes, should have remembered what all he’d lost. 

The Justicar destroyed the temple, that relic for a reason. Saren lost sight of that reason when faced with a great threat, and now he was forced to answer that question again:

_Is submission not preferable to extinction?_

He didn’t expect a human to answer that question for him.  Saren looked Commander Shepard in the eye and raised his pistol, and before pulling the trigger said only, “Goodbye, Shepard.  Thank you.”

_And then his world went black._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


End file.
